James Comey’s Opening Testimony Reads Like a Political Fifty Shades of Grey

James Comey, who suffered several awkward conversations during his meetings with Donald Trump.

By Eric Thayer/Getty Images.

On the eve of his highly anticipated hearing before the Senate Intelligence Committee, former F.B.I. director James Comey has released the text of his opening statement, detailing his various cringeworthy encounters with Donald Trump, whose belligerent disregard for the bureau’s independence apparently forced Comey, on one occasion, to literally try to hide among the curtains in the Blue Room to avoid another inappropriate conversation. According to Comey confidant Benjamin Wittes, the suspense-filled chronicle of their interactions, based on Comey’s contemporaneous memos, represents “the most shocking single document compiled about the official conduct of the public duties of any president since the release of the Watergate tapes.” It also happens to read like the screenplay for a D-list psycho-sexual thriller, combining elements of All the President’s Men and Between Two Ferns, with a hint of Fatal Attraction.

It may not be the testimony that gets Trump impeached, but it’s certainly the testimony that a scandal-weary public deserves. Here are the highlights:

January 27

After their first meeting on January 6, Trump invited Comey to dinner at the White House—an uncomfortable prospect for the F.B.I. director, who has repeatedly emphasized the firewall that should exist between the White House and the Department of Justice. Which is why, perhaps, Trump pulled a move straight out of 30 Rock, inviting Comey to what he believed was a group dinner, but turned out to be an aggressively intimate one-on-one:

He had called me at lunchtime that day and invited me to dinner that night, saying he was going to invite my whole family, but decided to have just me this time, with the whole family coming the next time. It was unclear from the conversation who else would be at the dinner, although I assumed there would be others.

It turned out to be just the two of us, seated at a small oval table in the center of the Green Room. Two Navy stewards waited on us, only entering the room to serve food and drinks.

As the dinner went on, Comey believed that the president was hoping to make him beg for his job and “create some sort of patronage relationship.” Uncomfortable with this display of dominance, Comey stated that he planned on serving out the remainder of his 10-year term, that he was on no one’s side politically, and that Trump could rely on him only to tell the truth, but nothing more.

A few moments later, the President said, “I need loyalty, I expect loyalty.” I didn’t move, speak, or change my facial expression in any way during the awkward silence that followed. We simply looked at each other in silence. The conversation then moved on, but he returned to the subject near the end of our dinner . . .

I replied, “You will always get honesty from me.” He paused and then said, “That’s what I want, honest loyalty.” I paused, and then said, “You will get that from me.” As I wrote in the memo I created immediately after the dinner, it is possible we understood the phrase “honest loyalty” differently, but I decided it wouldn’t be productive to push it further. The term—honest loyalty—had helped end a very awkward conversation, and my explanations had made clear what he should expect.

February 14

On Valentine’s Day, Comey was summoned to the White House for what began as a group date with several other high-ranking officials, including Vice President Mike Pence,Jared Kushner, and Attorney General Jeff Sessions, but once again became a private conservation when Trump dismissed everyone but Comey.

When the door by the grandfather clock closed, and we were alone, the President began by saying, “I want to talk about Mike Flynn.” Flynn had resigned the previous day. The President began by saying Flynn hadn’t done anything wrong in speaking with the Russians, but he had to let him go because he had misled the Vice President. He added that he had other concerns about Flynn, which he did not then specify.

After he had spoken for a few minutes about leaks, Reince Priebus leaned in through the door by the grandfather clock, and I could see a group of people waiting behind him. The President waved at him to close the door, saying he would be done shortly. The door closed.

It was during this conversation where Trump famously asked Comey if he could “let this go,” and that Flynn was a “good guy.” Comey demurred. Later, he performed a sort of walk of shame out the door by the grandfather clock, “making my way through the large group of people waiting there, including Mr. Priebus and the Vice President.”

Comey immediately documented the conversation, and later asked Sessions not to ever leave him alone again with Trump, and to limit any further communication, as it was “inappropriate and should never happen.” Sessions did not respond.

April 11

In their last interaction via a personal phone call, Trump fretted about “the cloud” hanging over his administration and asked Comey to tell the world that Trump was not personally under investigation. Comey, still very uncomfortable, told Trump that he should go the traditional route and have his White House counsel, Don McGahn, call the D.O.J. to make the request.

He said he would do that and added, “Because I have been very loyal to you, very loyal; we had that thing you know.” I did not reply or ask him what he meant by “that thing.”

It would be their last conversation before the F.B.I. director was dismissed. The following month, as the bureau’s Russia investigation accelerated, Trump asked Sessions and Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein to investigate whether Comey should be fired. Later, he explained that he had planned to fire Comey “regardless of [Rosenstein’s] recommendation,” because he was sick and tired of “the Russia thing,” which he called a “made up story” invented by Democrats to explain Hillary Clinton’s loss. Hell hath no fury like a Trump scorned.

Comey’s opening remarks, whether intentionally or not, have been composed with a tone bordering on suspense thriller. Where the former F.B.I. director intended to create such a dramatic narrative, or whether he is simply a naturally engaging story teller, is one question. What seems certain, however, is that in the Age of Trump, where reality increasingly resembles reality television, a normally anodyne governmental procedure, like testifying before the Senate, has been elevated to appointment television as if it were a pivotal season finale. One suspects that Comey, for all his no nonsense bureaucratic pedigree, is aware of this—and that he’s willingly playing a part.